Bottle Rockets (Sweet Pea x Reader)
Summary: You don’t need feelings. You don’t need friends. You need to stop obsessing over the fact that Sweet Pea is spending his summer with Josie instead of lighting bottle rockets with you.
Based on Request: hello!! could you maybe write something where the reader was a northsider friends with sweet pea and he kind of ignored her while he was with Josie for the summer and now the reader is ignoring him and he’s feeling miserable because he misses his friend (and maybe has actual feelings for her)? thank you 💚
Pairing: Sweet Pea x Fem!Reader
Author’s Note: This goes so far beyond the original request, but I started writing it, and the story just took life. I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it. [Insert normal begging/plea for feedback in asks and reblog form]. Also, I tried to capture some of the Sweet Pea we saw flirting with Josie. Hopefully, there was some success.
Warnings: Language (there’s always language). Underage drinking. Minor jokes about killing yourself (because of boredom). References to sex.
When it came down to it, it was all the Black Hood’s fault.
If it weren’t for him, the town wouldn’t have been so on edge and quick to shut down Southside High, ignoring years of hostility and prejudice and throwing over half of the student body into the already crowded halls of Riverdale High.
And while that itself was less than ideal, the situation would have at least been manageable if The Black Hood hadn’t murdered Midge. Because that changed everything.
That led to Fangs Fogarty getting arrested. Which prompted Ms. Klump to shoot Fangs. Which incited the riots and all of that wreckage. Which landed you in the seat next to Sweet Pea for the remainder of Physics.
The first day of the new seating arrangement came with little warning or fanfare—unless of course, you counted the fact that the trophy case was still cordoned off with caution tape and pretty much the entire student body all slipped on Southside Serpent jackets yesterday under threat of death from Veronica Lodge and Cheryl Blossom.
Walking into physics with your teacher mumbling “Your new seat is on the board—as if he knew he was about to cause the Riots - Part 2–was the first indication that shit was about to go down. Looking at the list of names, with you being placed towards the back right corner and seated next to a kid whose name you did not recognize should have been your second clue. Because you knew everyone who was supposed to be in this class. And maybe if you’d used a little bit of deductive reasoning, you would have known who you were sitting next to before the hulking mountain of flannel and leather dropped into the seat next to you.
“This is bullshit,” he grumbled, slamming his books on the table and pushing them up out of his way.
It was Sweet Pea. Of all the people in this class, you were sat next to the angriest one of all. The one who hated Northsiders with every fiber of his being. So much so that he threw a trashcan through the trophy case.
And whose best friend was shot by his classmate’s mom, a little voice inside your head reminded you.
You ignored her, as you normally did when she brought up irrelevant or otherwise inconvenient facts.
“What?” he growled turning to meet your gaze.
You blinked twice, unaware that you had been staring at him and shook your head giving what you hoped was a casual shrug. “I just didn’t know that your name was–”
“Sweet Pea.” His brow furrowed even more than it had a second ago making his face even darker if that was possible. “My name is Sweet Pea.”
You rolled your eyes and looked back up to the front, your eyes landing on the projected seating chart once more.
The rest of physics passed by in silence between the two of you, Sweet Pea keeping his head bent close to his notes and you keeping your eyes trained on Mr. Flutesnoot so you didn’t take note of any of the other empty chairs in the classroom.
The rest of the week followed the same pattern as the first day. You arrived first and took your seat. Sweet Pea arrived a little later and dropped angrily into his. The two of you would silently complete your work, pack up as quickly and quietly as possible when the bell rang and then dash off to your last class of the day.
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